Courting Ingrid Ivory
by Elizabeth1994
Summary: Beckett/OC Lord Cutler Beckett is to take one of the Ivory girls as his wife to collect a debt and in hope that she will produce a male heir. Will she be able to complete her task with all the unfortunate events happening around her?
1. Chapter 1 Sweet Sacrifice

_**Courting Ingrid Ivory (working title)**_

**Chapter 1:** **Sweet Sacrifice**  
**Characters:** Lord Cutler Beckett, Mr Mercer, Frank the butler, Charles, Ingrid and Charlotte Ivory. Mentions: Beckett's father.  
**Word Count:** 4,338  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** Flirting? This will get violent and sexual in future chapters, just thought I'd say so in advance.  
**Disclaimer:** Pirates of the Caribbean characters such as Lord Beckett and Mercer belong to Disney blah-blah no copyright infringement is intended. Characters such as Frank and the Ivory family are creations of mine.  
**Chapter Summary:** Beckett finds himself collecting a debt from Charles Ivory, as Charles has blown all his money he's made the suggestion that Beckett may take one of his daughter's hands in marriage. Charles doesn't seem to be as loyal as Beckett remembered. To give you an idea of the time frame I'll just say that Beckett is slightly younger and none of that Pirate nonsense (not to say that we don't like it) is mentioned.

**Notes: **This was fun and I've learnt a lot. I hope you enjoy my OC's. A special thanks to madame_doodle for the edit, advice and interesting history. Also thanking twix for support.

As the carriage bounced along the uneven track Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company and his right hand man - Mr Mercer - sat trying to keep still. Beckett sat tall and proud wearing a dark navy blue waistcoat with short white cuffs at the end of his sleeves. Mercer who sat across from him wore all black with a tri corn hat. The carriage slowed and Beckett turned to look out of the small carriage window at the house which he was about to call into.

The house was bricked a pale brown, with a black roof, two stories and no garden, although it did have one delicately shaped bay leaf topiary out front. It was nice, not extremely elegant but enough to please anyone who passed by, and considering its location in Covent Garden, where it was surrounded by and cramped onto a noisy street, it stood out rather nicely. The working class suburb of London was better than the factories at the centre but it surely wasn't better than the outskirts that were well away from the filth that was London.

The man Lord Beckett was visiting was Charles Ivory, and Beckett would be playing the role – if you will – of a debt collector. He would collect a debt which was long overdue.

When the carriage came to a complete halt, one of the waiting footmen opened the door for his lordship. Completely ignoring the footmen, whom he pushed aside with his cane as he stepped down, Lord Beckett looked back into the carriage and said to his manservant, "Mercer I'd prefer if you waited here. I'll send someone if you're needed."

Mercer's dull and dry tone made its way from the inside the carriage to his masters ears. "Aye sir."

His lordship turned around where he unexpectedly met the face of an ugly, old woman with ragged and filthy clothes and a basket of vegetables balancing on her hip. By the smell of things they weren't fresh.

The old woman was invading Lord Beckett's space. She said with a croaky voice "Help an old lady out and buy some lovely vegetables?" She gave him a toothy grin which didn't look at all healthy.

"No, thank you," He said pushing her, along with her stench away from him with his cane. She almost fell backwards - forced to walk back into a small ditch in the road, but he didn't care.

He continued on to the front of the house up to a stoop. He stepped up some steps facing the door where a young butler stood in waiting.

"Sir," The butler said as he held one of the double doors open.

Beckett stepped inside then turned to face the butter. "If it were any cooler this evening I would've frozen to death waiting for you to open the bloody door. Do your job efficiently or don't do it at all." _'At least I'm inside, I'd hate to be seen here in amongst this filth,'_ he thought.

"My apologies sir, it won't happen again," The now nervous butler replied.

"Good," Beckett said turning back into the house where he was escorted by the same butler to the study where Mr Ivory was waiting.

As his lordship was lead onwards down a dark hallway, Beckett found himself wondering how people could honestly live in such conditions. _'Candles - this hallway could do with more of those and far less paintings ' _The hall did have many paintings, they were poorly hung, most of them crooked and they weren't even the paintings of any famous artist. To Beckett they looked more like the work of some desperate amateur who painted in the desperate hope of discovery, but by the looks of things they probably weren't doing so well. The only thing in the hall which did look well placed was a blue porcelain vase, though it did look as if it needed some dusting.

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In the study, seated in a leather chair was a man with short grey hair, small blue eyes, a large long nose and a stomach which probably wouldn't allow him to see his feet when he stood. He wore beige breeches and a brown waistcoat. It was Mr Charles Ivory after at least twenty five years of nothing but Calling Cards whenever he felt like writing them. Beckett took a seat across from him, leaning one hand on his cane, and taking in how much destruction Charles had brought upon himself since the last time they'd seen each other some twenty or so years ago. From what Beckett could recall, Charles had been a tall – although his height was the exact opposite - proud man who was always up for a laugh, but then time did tend to change things.

"My daughters will be down shortly. Perhaps I could offer you some tea to accompany the wait; my girls do like to take their time readying themselves for visitors, and you did make this very short notice," Charles Ivory said proudly with a hoarse voice that he'd probably gained with age and the many times that he'd had bitter throat burning substances like cheap gin or brandy slide down into his stomach. Beckett couldn't recall a time where he hadn't been proud of everything he said. Maybe it was just his appearance that had changed.

Charles was once an officer of the East India Trading Company; he'd helped Beckett's father tutor Beckett for the job, teaching him the ropes when his father was busy - which he was most of the time anyway. But it had been more than twenty five years since the man had worked. The company had fired him. Beckett didn't know why and he didn't care to ask. Charles hadn't even looked for another job or a means of income after he was fired, and he'd spent any savings that he'd had. Beckett's father had loaned him some money - a gesture of their close friendship, but he'd died before he could even get some of the interest back at the very least, even if it was to come from selling Charles's un-needed possessions.

Therefore, Beckett was left with the responsibility of gaining a payment of some sort, which obviously wouldn't be money because Charles had blown it all for next to nothing. So they had arranged that Charles could give up one of his daughters to Beckett in marriage, as his Lordship needed a wife to produce a son.

So as it turned out, an ugly man like Charles could apparently attract a well-mannered wife who was good enough to produce three fine looking daughters. But Beckett had only heard Charles tell him so in the letters he'd sent in which they had arranged to meet and settle the debt, he hadn't yet been able to see them for himself. One of the daughters, if pleasing to Beckett, would become his wife. Charles' wife had passed away two years ago and from what Beckett knew that was probably why Charles was the man that he was today – a pathetic, lethargic, low life who still somehow saw in himself pride to flaunt.

Beckett took a sip of the tea and then placed it on the front of Charles's desk. "Do your daughters know why I'm here?"

"Yes. They both didn't look at all pleased with me afterwards. Though, I only told them that you would take one of them as a wife, I didn't mention anything to them about... the task," Charles answered after a sip of tea.

"Both? You told me you had three daughters and a son. Where is the other daughter?" Beckett felt like Charles was aware that he had just said something that he shouldn't have.

"Oh... err..." Charles stuttered nervously.

"You lied to me Charles. I wanted to inspect all three. Where's the third?" Beckett asked - his voice firm.

"My eldest Clare... I... She's been married for weeks now. It must have slipped my mind, terribly sorry," Charles replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Pathetic. Charles I trusted you to at least get this right. Why is she married when you clearly stated in your letters that I'd see all of your daughters?" Beckett asked. He could see that Charles was far too nervous for the marriage of Clare to have been about money. Something else had been the reason, and Beckett needed to know what.

"Clare… oh, she looked just like her mother you see, so I'd been favouring her since... the death of Louise. I wanted Clare to be happy so-"

"So you thought it would be alright to give her to a man that she fancied even though you promised that I'd see all of your daughters before you let them marry for any other reason? Wrong. People who break promises with me regret it Charles, and you should know that," Beckett watched Charles lower himself down into the chair at his enraged tone - cowardly.

"No, no, it's not like that at all.... err... she was the eldest anyway! Why not take one of the younger two; they'll be more...more... youthful for the task? The younger a woman is when she marries the more clueless she is, maybe take that to your advantage?" Charles was right but it was just sheer luck that he thought of those things on the spot like that.

"I suppose you're right. And for the record, as there are only two, it lowers the chance of me reaping in the rewards of the task that I have set, if I'm pleased with neither of them I'll take the house and all of its possessions and don't you think for a moment that I won't. You have a debt and you shan't get away without paying it," Beckett threatened.

"Of course your Lordship, please, I don't think that at all...," Charles said, and he knew that there was no escape from the situation. Facing the younger Beckett was significantly better than facing the elder Beckett had he not died; Beckett's father had been renowned for his very short temper.

"Good," Beckett said. He was always pleased to see that people took his threats seriously.

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"Somehow I always knew something like this would happen to us," whispered the young lady dressed in a blue gown that matched her sapphire eyes and enhanced the long dark blonde hair curling softly over her shoulders. She stood with her older sister outside the study door.

"And it's not as if either of us know anything about this Mr Beckett, what if he's a decrepit, aging monster who just wants lots of-" The blonde haired girls older sister whispered back, she was unable to complete the sentence. She was about a half a head taller than her sibling, with soft facial features like her sister but with green eyes instead and chocolate brown hair tied in a ribbon that matched the emerald green dress she wore.

"Ingrid, all men want plenty of... _that_. Don't you remember how you and Clare were the ones that told me so? Do you want to knock or should I?" The blue eyed girl whispered back.

"How could I have forgotten? I suppose I'll knock," Ingrid sighed, turning to her sister - Charlotte.

"How about we get Frank to announce us?" Charlotte asked but didn't wait for a reply. She turned to see Frank dusting a vase in the corner; he was the same butler who had opened the door for Beckett on his arrival. When Frank came over she asked him to announce them.

Frank opened the study door. "Ingrid and Charlotte Ivory," he said as he let the sisters into the study. Ingrid entered first followed by Charlotte who gave a sideways look to Frank on her way through.

"About time you two!" Charles said with sudden excitement in his voice.

Frank closed the doors as he returned to his other duties.

Ingrid and Charlotte stood beside each other at the back of the study in front of a large, tall bookcase which ran along the length of the back wall. They eagerly watched the elegantly dressed man with his back facing them across the room for any movement.

Charles stood up from his seat and made a slow walk over to his daughters, limping slightly because of his sore left leg and because of his rheumatism.

It was then that Beckett finally turned to take a distant look at the Ivory girls. His thoughts were immediate. _'Perfect.'_

Ingrid and Charlotte noted with some relief that Beckett wasn't an old man at all as they watched him make his way over to them.

Charles stopped in front of Charlotte. "Lord Beckett, may I present to you my daughters. This is Charlotte, my youngest daughter, and the youngest of my children. She's turned seventeen just recently."

Beckett gave Charlotte a slight bow when she curtseyed.

Charles moved on to introduce Ingrid. "And this is Ingrid, my second eldest daughter, she's twenty," Beckett observed Ingrid for longer than he had her younger sister. Yes, they were both something to marvel at, but it was Ingrid's eyes that enticed him, he'd never seen eyes of that shade or hue before.

He removed his eyes from Ingrid and turned to Charles. "I'd like to speak with them both privately. I'll begin with Charlotte," he said, turning to meet her sapphire eyes.

"Very well, Ingrid come with me, we will wait outside and leave his Lordship to his work," Charles said after he made his way over to the study door. He opened it for Ingrid.

When Ingrid had walked out of the study Charles shut the door and pulled Ingrid close. "Now you listen to me sweetheart. Be plain and simple with him, I don't want to lose you to him, I'd much rather it be Charlotte."

"Yes father. But what if he chooses me still? What if he chooses neither of us? What will happen?" Ingrid asked.

"Then there isn't much I can do about that. You shouldn't worry yourself, I saw it myself, and he rather liked the look of the both of you. You... you don't want to be his wife, am I right sweet?"

"No I don't... What made you ask?" Ingrid replied she looked confused. _'Where did he pull a question like that from? Though, I wouldn't mind finally getting out of this dump. I should be married by now and I deserve to be living somewhere nice, somewhere where I can leave the house! I should be spoilt, covered in riches,'_

"I was just wondering. I only care for your happiness dear," Charles said shaking Ingrid in a playful caring way. The way he shook her was unusual, she was no longer a child and yet he would always treat her like one and the same went for her sisters. Ingrid thought it must have been one of those 'I don't want you to ever leave me' things, which made sense because she did resemble her mother more than Charlotte and he'd lost her mother he didn't want to lose Ingrid too.

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"Lord Beckett," Ingrid said with a curtsy when she came into the study for her private conversation with him.

"Ingrid Ivory. I've never heard the name 'Ingrid' before; it sounds rather intriguing, I wonder, what is its meaning?" Beckett asked inviting her to sit opposite him near the fireplace.

Ingrid sat down and not for a split second did she take her eyes off of him. "My name was inspired by what my mother saw in one of her mythology books. She read them but she never really believed half of what they mentioned. She always said they made good stories. My name means… well, in my understanding, it's an old Nordic word for 'beautiful.' That's what mother always told me anyway, and something about the God of the earth's fertility - I can't really remember," she answered with the memory of her mother in the back of her mind.

"Beautiful – that, you very well are," Beckett said admiring her eyes, lips the curve of her breasts and that milky white complexion. _'And fertile like the earth you very well may be.'_

"Why thank you," Ingrid said, begrudgingly accepting the complement – a complement that she had to have heard at least a dozen times. With a dose of his voice and a closer look, her mind already began to transmit what she'd seen. _'He's arrogant, and how desperate could you possibly you be to make a flirtatious remark such as that?'_

Her thoughts stopped when she heard his voice again. "There isn't much you need to know about me, other than the fact that I work for the East India Trading Company and that I'd like to take a wife. So, tell me about your interests," he said and intensely waited for her reply.

"I enjoy reading, poetry… I have a love for music but I can't dance to save my life. Music, I suppose I find it fascinating to hear the capability of an instrument, all the pieces that it can play. I play the harpsichord, as father insisted that I learnt it for his entertainment," she said, only she wondered if she'd said too much, been too alluring, considering what her father had told her outside. _'I've said too much... I'll just have to give him a wrong impression, that I'm insolent perhaps...or sightly absent minded,"_ she thought. Ingrid really was just like her mother in that way, her thoughts were very quick but many of those inner thoughts rarely slipped past her lips.

"Music, poetry, reading and you can't dance very well. That sounds very much like myself, except for the poetry," he said plainly.

"Hmm, I suppose I like art too," she said staring out the window. It was snowing. _'Insolent it is…'_

Beckett turned to see what Ingrid was so intrigued by, he thought it might have been a painting on the wall due to the fact that she'd mentioned art but he was surprised to see that she was in fact gazing out the window at the snow fall. He turned back to her and asked "Do you like the winter snow?"

"Yes, I find it rather pretty. I can watch it fall for hours, and the first fall for winter is always particularly beautiful, just like this," Ingrid said slowly turning her attention back to Beckett.

"Ah, I can't agree with you completely. It's horrible to be taken through in a carriage, or have you never experienced that?"

"It hasn't been bad when I've been. I don't leave the house often enough I suppose. It's not safe..." she said gazing out the window again.

"I see..." he said observing her unusual behaviour while also watching her face from the side, her profile, where he could still see her eyes and all her other features.

She turned her attention back to Beckett once again. "Sorry. How rude of me to-" she said as if she'd not intended to be insolent.

"No, it's alright. I think we're done here," he said standing up and holding his cane just above the ground.

Ingrid stood too; she went and opened the door to inform her father and sister that they could come in.

"Well, which of my daughters takes your fancy most, your Lordship? Who gets to be Lady Beckett?" Charles asked, anxious to know what fate he would have for himself and his daughters.

Beckett moved his attention over to Charlotte who stood next to her father. "Charlotte, you're a wonderful young lady-"

"Wonderful! You won't be disappointed with her!" Charles said excitedly, jumping to the conclusion he wanted the most.

Beckett scolded Charles with his words and eyes. "As I was saying," He said, and then turned back to Charlotte "But it would be most unfair that the youngest were to marry before the eldest. Ingrid was also the most pleasing," he said turning to Charles with a smirk.

"Ingrid... but you don't want her! Charlotte is much more suitable, she's younger and far better mannered," Charles raced his words, nervously trying to convince Beckett to take Charlotte instead.

Ingrid looked on the scene. _'Me? But I was so rude and improper. No, he can't have seen what I was trying to do... or maybe Charlotte really wasn't enough to please him at all…?'_

"It's a shame you know. I would've enjoyed my inheritance had there have been more of it, you took that away from me Charles. So now, I'll take something that matters to you. It'll be Ingrid or the house. Which do you choose?" Beckett said. After a rather awkward silence he spoke again. "Do you want to sacrifice Ingrid to save the three of you? Or are you pathetic enough to let me take the house?"

Charles thought for a moment before giving a reply, what Beckett had said really sunk in to his mind. He could give Ingrid away and write to her or even visit her maybe, but not giving her away would mean he would lose the house and Ingrid would perish into prostitution with her sister in order to make ends meet for their father. It was a sweet sacrifice and it had to be made.

"You... you may have Ingrid. Take her... leave this evening, I can't trust myself to keep her here until you are wed," Charles said slowly bringing out the truth. He knew that he would try and hide her if she stayed because just knowing that she'd become Beckett's wife was enough to make him want to do that. And it was better to tell the truth, than hide Ingrid away and get caught and face the consequences. It would also salvage what was left of Charles's reputation.

"I see you have some honesty left in you after all... Ingrid, I want you to go up stairs and fetch your necessities. I can easily arrange for the rest of her belongings and that vase in the hall to be brought to my home at a later date," Beckett said. He was rather proud to be taking the one thing Charles had left to care about besides himself; the vase was simply something else he liked the look of. He was also glad that he wouldn't be having Charles escape without payment – his father would be proud.

Ingrid did as she was asked, and headed out the study and up the stairs with her sister following behind her. Frank followed and waited outside Ingrid's bed chamber in ready to carry her things down stairs.

"You're taking the vase from the hall?" Charles asked. He seemed confused; he never said anything about the vase before just now.

"I rather fancied it; it rather makes a nice package with Ingrid," Beckett spoke plainly.

"But it was Louise's..." Charles said miserably.

"And that money was my fathers," Beckett retorted.

"Take it, it was filled more with memories of Louise than flowers anyway," Charles had always seen his wife's possessions as filled with memories, it upset him sometimes, but there were also those times that reminded him of her in a way that made him happy – the times when _she_ was happy. The vase had been one of her many wedding gifts and it was the last he had of them and now like Ingrid it would be gone.

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"My dearest sister... I feel terrible, but if I was the one to leave you'd feel like this too wouldn't you?" Charlotte asked her sister whilst shoving some of Ingrid's clothes into a chest. She perched on the edge of her sister's bed.

"Of course I would. This had to happen to one of us and I've accepted that it's me. If I didn't go just imagine what would become of us," Ingrid said heavily, just as the London sky - grey and sagging with snow.

When the family had started to go through hard times and when the girl's father began to drink and waste most of the money gambling on card games, they had to cut back on many things. These included set backs on the girls clothing, staff and furniture.

"Maybe you could run away?" Charlotte suggested.

"Charlotte. How bad could Lord Beckett be? He seemed rather nice when I spoke with him. The only thing that I didn't like was the way he spoke so plainly, it was so dry and dull, with no life in it at all."

"Maybe he wants a wife because he's lonely?" Charlotte suggested, still packing things into her sister's chest. Ingrid folded them as she placed them inside.

"I hope that's the reason," Ingrid spoke down into her lap as she folded her nightdress. "And if he turns out to be horrible I can run when that time comes. I believe in giving people a chance, you mustn't be prejudice towards people," Ingrid said as she passed the nightdress to her sister. Ingrid was also like her mother in this way - she gave advice where she thought it would be needed.

"Well... that's the last of it... all that can fit..." Charlotte slowly placed the open lid of the chest down and locked it. Her eyes were beginning to water. "What if I never see you...what if I never see you again?" she asked before she began to sob lightly. She then suddenly wrapped her arms around her sister.

Ingrid stroked her younger sister in an attempt to comfort her. "Come now, you mustn't say things like that. It's best for us this way, I mean Charlotte we're both innocent and young and with fathers spending habits we'll end up on the street if I don't go and quite possibly we'd lose our innocence in a brutal way. This needs to be done and I suppose I can write to you and father when ever possible. Don't cry, I'll be fine... you need to remember I'm not married to him... _yet_…"


	2. Chapter 2 The Investment

**Chapter Two:** The Better Investment  
**Characters:** Lord Beckett, Mr. Mercer, Ingrid Ivory and some OC maids. Mentions: Charlotte and Charles Ivory.  
**Warnings:** None?  
**Rating:** PG, possibly lower?  
**Chapter Summary:** Beckett takes Ingrid to her new home. Talk of the past and wondering about the future. My summary is really bad...

**Author Notes: **Due to the location of my computer being in an oven (games room with tin roof in summer = oven) when the temperature rises in the summer here I tend not to enter the oven or use the computer, or at least as often. So it might be a while until my next update. Unless I can somehow find another working power point and move my computer into the main part of the house – bless air conditioning! Anyway, I will update on this or my other work when I can.

Lord Beckett and the Ivory's hadn't waited for the snowfall to lighten before Beckett and Ingrid left; there seemed no point waiting, as it was only going to get heavier. As Ingrid put her cloak on in the foyer Charlotte sobbed again whilst Charles tried to stand tall – tried and failed however, as you could clearly see the pain in his eyes. With one final turn to look back at her sister and father Ingrid smiled, she knew it would give her family some reassurance that she could and would take care of herself. And though she knew that it wasn't necessarily true, she attempted to show it anyway.

As Mercer helped Ingrid into the carriage to sit beside Lord Beckett, Frank stowed Ingrid's trunk onto the roof. As the driver called for the horses to move on, Mercer leapt in after her and closed the door just as the carriage began to roll forwards on route to Lord Beckett's estate.

Now that Mercer was in he picked up the vase that had been placed next to him. He held the vase tightly because he had already been told of what would happen if he so much as marked it.

After scolding Mercer, Beckett apologised to Ingrid for the tone he'd used. He made a quick introduction of Ingrid to Mercer and Mercer to Ingrid, and then asked Mercer for his opinion on his bride to be.

"An excellent choice sir. I saw the other girl and I have to say that Ingrid looks much more suitable," Mercer answered. He always made sure to give the answer that his lordship most wanted to hear.

"Yes, the other one – Charlotte, she was just as agreeable as Ingrid, only I found herrather mindless," Beckett said, and after a short pause and a slight turn to Ingrid who sat next to him he asked, "Perhaps you could tell me why your sister is a lacking intellect?"

"She's been like that for years. You see, she was the one who, um.... _found_ mother... and she was so young, it really traumatised her. She's never been quite the same," she replied. _'Though there are other reasons too...'_

"Well, it's no wonder then," Beckett said. And though it crossed his mind to ask about her mother's death he knew it would be a fragile topic. Not to mention, the last thing he needed right now was to have Ingrid sobbing and if she sobbed anything like her sister did, then yes, it was very much worth preventing.

After several moments of nothing but the usual travel noises coming from the horses' efforts and the carriage wheels annoyingly scraping themselves along the track Beckett turned to Ingrid again. "Now, before I forget; why was it that your father was so keen to marry Charlotte off instead of you?"

"Well, father and I, we think just the same as you, she is very much lacking in intellect...," Ingrid answered a little too fast. She couldn't help but answer with a lie. If she told the truth she would risk feeling guilty.

"Come now, that wouldn't be the real or only reason. Tell me the truth." Beckett said. Attempting to coax the truth out of her - he could see that she was lying.

"I- I don't really want to..." Ingrid said.

"Oh really? And why would that be?" Beckett asked.

"Because... my sister would never forgive me if she found out that I told someone," Ingrid answered.

"In that case she won't find out." He replied.

"Very well... Before we had Frank we had this _horrible_ old man... Charlotte told me that he'd done _things_ to her... Things that would question her virginity," Ingrid explained, though to Beckett it seemed that she didn't want to reveal all of the details. He was going to coax more information from her but she continued before he could. "Father hasn't really liked Charlotte since. From what I gather it happened more than once – so I suppose she could've said something sooner, but she didn't so really it's her own fault if she's not the virgin that she claims to be. So I suppose father wanted to offer you her hand so that he could get rid of her. Then of course, he did favour me... as you probably noticed."

"So choosing you over your sister has been a greater investment than I originally thought," Beckett said. He was now more pleased with his choice than he had been before.

"I fail to see why. There isn't anything wrong with Charlotte in any other way." she said.

"Yes, but that doesn't matter now. I presume that _you're_ still a virgin? And, your father still has to deal with finding a husband for Charlotte," Beckett said proudly, noting that he'd sunk Charles' reputation further into the mud.

"Oh yes, I'm definitely still a virgin... I could see that father was rather annoyed with Charlotte when you took me..." she trailed off and wondered if her father would punish Charlotte.

"Excellent. Now see Mercer, the best investment _can_ be the one which _displeases_ the seller," Beckett said.

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When the carriage finally slowed and came to a complete stop, the footmen assisted Ingrid in getting out of the carriage. She looked up as she stepped down. Her new home was beautiful. It was much, much bigger than her old home, and far more elegant. It had a garden with various expensive looking statues, though they were all covered in snow. _Everything_ was covered in snow. It was something that she'd never seen before and to think that she was going to live there - she felt like the luckiest woman alive. But was she?

"I take it that you are enjoying the view of my estate?" Beckett asked, taking her arm a little too roughly, forcing her to walk forwards with him towards the house.

"Yes, very much. I've never seen a more beautiful house," she said excitedly, and Beckett of course had nothing against her claim. And she completely ignored the fact that she was practically being dragged about like a mother in a bustle-filled crowd at the markets, Beckett wondered if she cared.

"Wait until you see inside. I'll have Mercer introduce you to your chambermaids and what have you, then I'll leave you to wander the house,"

'_Chambermaids and what have you? Oh this is wonderful!'_ she thought. "You want me to wander about on my own? My, but I'll get lost!" she said with enthusiasm, she intended it to be slightly humorous. And when he'd given her a short chuckle at her claim she smiled as she congratulated herself for uncovering that Beckett wasn't a _completely_ serious person.

Once they were inside the staff were instructed by Mr. Mercer to gather in the entrance hall. The hall was well lit considering it was evening and dark outside because of the snow clouds, very unlike the one at the Ivory household and Ingrid was glad that she could see everyone clearly. She was sure that Beckett was showing off and she knew that he hadn't thought much of her home. She noticed that her trunk was being taken up the stairs and the vase was still with Mercer. She wondered where the vase would end up – she hoped that he wouldn't sell it and that it would become a simple ornament, another thing he could proudly show off.

Her thoughts were broken when the butler offered to take her coat. He took it outside, along with Beckett's and shook the snow off before returning to hang them on the stand.

Beckett cleared his throat with the hand that wasn't linked to Ingrid's arm. "This is Ingrid and she is my fiancée. You are to give her the same respect that you give me or else you will endure the usual consequences of your actions." Beckett watched the reactions of his staff. Most of them looked baffled; it was expected because they hadn't expected him to bring home a fiancée out of the blue. They'd never seen her until now, nor had they heard of an _'Ingrid'_.

Beckett dismissed some of the staff, mostly those from kitchens. He then showered her two lady's maids – Cassandra and Alice. They both curtsied. Alice was a young woman with dark brown hair, brown eyes and sharp features. Cassandra looked to be in her forties with dark blonde hair and blue eyes; she was also a reasonably big boned woman.

"Your maids will take you upstairs and show you to your room, whilst there I'd also like you to change into something that will coordinate with your new surroundings," Beckett said.

"_This_ is my best dress," Ingrid answered. She wore it because it was her best; her father had told her to look well bred for when Beckett came to inspect her and her sister. It was pretty, but painfully tight - she wasn't used to wearing something so constricting.

"Oh...." How could he forget? He bet that even her best dress was in-fact a hand-me-down. "Then these two are to take your measurements, they can then organise the making of newer ones - a whole collection of much finer fabrics will be ordered if _this_ is the best of your attire. I trust that you'll keep your appearance the best you can until they're made?"

"Thank you... I understand why I must be well presented, so I shall do my best," she said. _'He's not as bad as I thought he'd be. Though he is _slightly_ arrogant,'_

"It's nothing really," he said modestly. "I'll be in my study, I have some things that need tending to and I ask not to be disturbed. Dinner is at half past eight, I'll see you then," he said, before he and Mercer took their leave and headed into the left wing. As soon as he was out of sight the rest staff scrambled back to their duties.

Ingrid was watching all the fuss when she was tapped lightly on her shoulder. When she turned around she saw her maids. Alice spoke "We'll show you to your chamber now and take your measurements as the master instructed. Right this way," Ingrid noticed that Alice had a very soft voice and it suited her well.

"Oh yes, of course," Ingrid said as she followed her maids upstairs.

On her way to her chamber she couldn't help but dart her eyes about to see every little detail of her new home. She noticed that everything was well placed, not cluttered like it had been in her family home. The white paint on the upstairs hallway walls was well contrasted with the furniture that ran along them – a few wooden bureaux scattered with ornaments - they really did made it look nice.

When her maids swung her chamber door open and showed Ingrid inside, she noted how well the room was made up. There was a large four post bed with her trunk placed at the foot of it, vanity, wardrobe, writing desk, a few windows and all the small objects that were here and there; ornaments, books and paintings. She wanted to squeal with excitement, but propriety demanded otherwise. Before Ingrid could even think about touching anything in her room Alice pulled a measuring tape out from God knows where and she and Cassandra began to push Ingrid around as they took down her measurements.

While Ingrid's maids were taking her measurements she noticed that Cassandra gave a glance to Alice. Alice opened her mouth to speak but no words came. Ingrid noticed this, "If you have something to say, say it," Ingrid said, and annoyed by her maid's actions her tone was raised.

"When we first saw you we thought you might have come from a brothel. But then when he announced you... we wondered otherwise. Then of course he told us that you're to marry him," Cassandra said as she wrapped the tape across Ingrid's chest.

'_He's quite the libertine, then?'_ She thought. "I am no whore! And I most certainly don't look like one! I'm to be his wife, just as he mentioned earlier!" Ingrid corrected. It was the first time she'd said her condemned verdict out loud, and it felt a little odd.

The two maids seemed surprised even though they _had_ already been told that it was the case. Cassandra apologised. "Sorry miss, we didn't mean to judge you so improperly. We just thought that if the master were to ever take a wife that she'd be, well, a spoilt, arrogant, upper class brat… and you don't seem to be like that at all."

Ingrid wondered if what Cassandra had just told her was supposed to be some form of compliment. "I see what you mean. But I must ask; why would you imagine her to be an 'arrogant, spoilt upper class brat?'" Ingrid asked.

"Because that breed would go well with 'im," Cassandra answered, before Alice could even think of a more tactful response.

"How do you mean? He appears to be a decent, nice man," Ingrid said in disbelief of Cassandra's claim.

This time it was Alice who jumped in first. "Oh no, he's not... not all of the time. Just don't get in his bad books, is all."

"Oh most people are like that – everyone has a darker side… he probably just can't help himself, he's only human," Ingrid said, trying to stick to what she had said.

"Alright, you believe what you want, miss. Just don't come crying to us when something 'appens between the two of you that you don't like," Cassandra said waggling her finger at Ingrid. And with that, she left the room.

'_For a maid, she really doesn't know her place at all too well,' _Ingrid thought.

When Cassandra was gone Alice spoke. "Don't you mind her miss. She and the master don't get on too well; she tends to over-exaggerate about him all the time. It's uh, probably that time of the month too by the sounds of things," Alice winked. "She's usually a lot better than this."

"Oh... I see," Ingrid said, smiling nervously. _'So what you really mean is that she's _always_ like that…'_

"Would you like me to show you around then? I suppose it'd be a big help - seeing as you'll be living here from now on," Alice said.

"Well if you don't have anything better to do," _'I prefer Alice over Cassandra and I've only known them for a very short time…'_

Alice gave Ingrid a quick tour, but was interrupted by other duties just after she'd finished showing her the sitting room downstairs. "I'm sure you'll be alright to wonder around on your own now, Miss. Just don't disturb the master," Alice said before she disappeared.

Once Ingrid was alone her mind began to wander and so did her feet. She was admiring a painting of some London scenery that was hung on the wall in the downstairs hallway when she heard voices coming from behind one of the doors near her. As she crept closer she could decipher that the voices were those of Beckett and Mercer. Drawing even closer she could hear the words. She completely ignored what Alice had told her.

'_A week, I'm sure that a ..... wouldn't be that busy,' _She heard Beckett say. He sounded rather fired up about something, _someone_. She wanted to know more but she couldn't quite make out all the words.

Then she heard Mercer speak. _'I offered additional money sir, and even then he said he still couldn't be around by ............ to .......' _After making sure that no one was around, Ingrid pulled her hair behind her ear and placed the same ear on the door to see if she could understand more of the conversation. She knew she shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but she couldn't help wondering what they were talking about and why Beckett was so eager to have this mystery man visit. She hoped she'd find out soon enough... and without getting caught.

'_Find someone else to do it then. I don't care if he has to come from ... other side of London to ........ my marriage. I need this done now, the sooner it's done the quicker I can..... Ingrid,' _She began to listen more intently now that she'd had her name mentioned, but although she had her ear on the door the wood was too thick to make out all the words.

'_I'll go in the morning sir,' _she heard Mercer suggest.

'_Yes. As soon as dawn breaks you'd better be up and gone,' _She heard Beckett say, but this time it sounded closer and the words were much clearer. They had to be coming closer to the door. She quickly, but quietly made her way down the hall and pretended to admire the painting she'd admired before again.

When she heard the study door open she thought it best to turn her head. Mercer hurried off past her whilst Beckett slowly approached her.

"What are you doing?" he asked haughtily.

"Well, I told you that I liked art didn't I?" she said before turning back to the painting.

"Yes, I believe you did," he drawled. "But surely you don't think that this is anything spectacular, do you?" he asked.

"Oh... I don't know. All of the paintings that I've seen are nice," she lied. She could barely remember the other paintings, they were just blurs when she walked passed them.

"Rightly so.... and I take it that everything is to your liking?" he urged.

"Oh yes, very," she replied with a smile.

"Good," he said noting her smile - she had a nice smile.

"I have to ask though. My ladies maids-," she was going to ask something but was cut off.

"If you don't like them I can easily replace them. Alice is a bit mindless and Cassandra should learn her place. Though she should already know it, really," he said.

"Oh no, there's nothing the matter with them. It's just that they.... they thought that I was a - something that I'm not," she said and made sure she'd chosen the right words.

"Oh really, and what was that?" he knew exactly what she was talking about. _'Cassandra you never learn.'_

"They thought I was a-," she was cut off again.

"I know exactly what they thought of you. But don't worry. It won't happen again," he said.

"Why? It didn't upset me, not really. It's just that...." she wasn't cut off this time, she just couldn't finish.

"That what? You think that I'm the sort of man who has a different woman in bed with me every night?" he said, he did sound rather cross and Ingrid began to worry that what Alice had warned her of was true.

"No.... not... to that extent," she said but as she soon he got closer to her she began to regret it.

"So now you think I'm the type that behaves like that on the odd occasion?" he asked.

"Yes. I always had," she lied, of course. It was too much of a blessing to find a man who didn't have a woman in bed with him at least once every fortnight. And she knew it too; her father had had a few prostitutes in his bed chamber from time to time. The thought always made her feel ill.

'_Good girl,' _"It's almost eight. You and I should wait for supper. The sitting room or the dining room?" he said.

"Don't ask me something like that, please - you decide," she replied.

"Dining room it is," he said.

'_I should have said sitting room. I hope the chairs are nice... this dress is driving me insane,'_ she thought, musing over her decision not to say 'Sitting Room.'

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Beckett and Ingrid sat at opposite ends of the dinner table. They'd been speaking only of trivial things. Occasionally Beckett would ask Ingrid a question about herself, but Ingrid never did the same in return. She thought it best to just answer the questions and not ask her own, she liked the mystery.

"You know, I was speaking with Mercer earlier this evening,"

"Oh, really?" she said as if she hadn't a clue.

"He said he's having trouble finding someone to pronounce us man and wife. It shouldn't be that difficult. It doesn't require much, just a flick of a quill really," he said as he watched the servants set the table.

"Oh..... Just a simple paper signing..." she said. She sounded disappointed.

"Yes. Why spend weeks on end planning a wedding that's only really going to last not even an hour - and better yet, why do that when I can have it over and done with in minuets by simply signing an official document?" he said.

"Well.... I suppose," she said and still she sounded disappointed. She looked into one of the many spoons at her place in which she could see her reflection staring back at her – they were so well polished that she couldn't imagine the amount of elbow-grease that had most likely been used. She thought for a moment before lifting her head up again to speak. "Yes, that does make a lot of sense."

"You didn't want a wedding, did you?" he asked, in a way which gave Ingrid the idea that _he_ did not.

"Not really. I did think it would've been nice though. My older sister Clare's wedding was lovely, even for something so cheap," she answered.

"That's right; your father did mention that he'd married her off just recently. I wasn't on good terms with him after he'd said that. I really had hoped to meet the three of you as he'd promised in one of his letters but of course he'd lied," he paused before continuing, "What is your older sister like?"

"Well, personality wise, she's really just an older version of myself. She looks a lot like me, though, she has blue eyes and not green, it's the only way you can tell us apart really, and it makes her the most like mother," Ingrid replied.

"Your father did say she was the most like your mother and that she was his favourite on account of that," he said as a large soup tureen was placed in the centre of the table. The dish hadn't been there long but the smell of what was underneath the lid had already began to escape into the room's atmosphere.

"Oh yes, she was. But as soon as he gave Clare away he began to favour me. I'm not too sure if I liked it or not though," she admitted. She could smell what was under the lid of the tureen as it lifted to her nose, she couldn't identify the smell but she was sure she'd smelt it somewhere before.

"Why wouldn't you like being the favourite?" he asked.

"Oh, it had its advantages. It's just that he was... a bit _too_ affectionate at times and it became rather annoying. Though, the way he gave me that hug before we left... that was the only time that I've actually minded it, but I suppose it was due to the circumstances," she said.

"You're not really going to miss him are you?" he asked. She couldn't possibly miss her father, could she?

"A little, I'm surprised," she replied.

"Surprising. How could you possibly miss _him,_ and that awful house?" he asked without considering her feelings.

"I'm afraid that I don't know how to answer that. I just do.... Not the house though, horrible thing, it should be torn down really," she replied. _'He called father 'that'....,' _she thought and it hurt. _'How could someone say something like that?'_

"Very well," he said. He could clearly tell by the upset look on her face and the way she spoke that he'd hurt her feelings somewhat but it didn't bother him much.

Dinner was taken while Beckett lectured Ingrid of his household do's and don'ts. The list went on forever and it felt like he was simply making it up as he went along. He'd say a few rules then take some soup then say a few more. Ingrid wasn't entirely sure which was more irritating, his tone or the list itself. "...You're to present yourself well at all times - dress adequately for every occasion and be well mannered-"

"Sorry to interrupt, but can I just mention that I _do_ have at least a little common sense," she drawled, but carefully. She was sick of his long - and what seemed to be never-ending - list and wished that he'd just get to the point. She felt unwell and that made things worse. She felt strange, it started about half way through her meal but she thought it was that she was her being nervous or something. _'My stomach... it can't be what I ate, I only just finished... and I know it's not that time of the month... I wonder if it's linked to my headache..,'_

"You've already broken one. My, that didn't take you long did it?" he said. He then took a good look at her. She didn't look right. "Is something the matter? You look... feverish,"

"Sorry. I have a slight headache, and it has been a long day," she said as she placed her spoon into her soup bowl. _'My corset... I've never had to wear one for this long... so I hope that he'll let me go to bed so I can take this thing off,'_

"Well, perhaps you'd better go and get some sleep then. A bath can be arranged if you'd like?" he suggested.

"I think sleep should fix it. That's probably what it is – I'm just tired. Thank you though, for offering to have bath run all the same," she said, though she knew it wouldn't be from lack of sleep. It could be many things.

"Very good. Well, I shall see you sometime around lunch tomorrow as I have to attend a meeting with some Company executives," he said but then he continued. "When you wake in the morning stay in your room until someone arrives to assist you. I don't want you wandering around as you did today again; I think you've done enough of that."

"Of course... but what shall I do if I get bored whilst waiting?" she asked.

"I can assure you, you won't be bored. There are some books in your room that I'd like you to read when you have the time. They will help you become settled in your new life."

"Oh dear, are these books by any chance along the lines of etiquette?" she asked.

"Yes. They are... I can't imagine you having too many lessons on being proper so I thought they would be necessary so that you can arise to the standard that's expected of _my_ wife. And to ensure that you are up to date with everything and well kept. Do you understand?"

"Yes I understand perfectly. And you were right, my etiquette could do with some _refining_," she said.

"Good. I shall see you tomorrow then, goodnight," he said. He was still seated at the other side of the table, he watched her as she said goodnight and made her leave.

As soon as Ingrid was upstairs her maids organised her for bed. As they did so, they enquired about how dinner had gone. "It was alright... except he gave me a lot of rules that I must follow. It wasn't the rules that got under my skin, it was the tone he used, he spoke down to me as if I was without even an ounce of common sense," Ingrid said as Alice ran a brush through her hair.

"Oh, he does that to everyone - and I mean _everyone_ - so don't take too much offence," she said as she placed the brush on the vanity. "There you go miss, all done," Alice smiled.

"Well, when you say he does it to everyone it helps a little, but it's still rather harsh don't you think?" Ingrid said.

"Oh, don't worry about it, the master will see that you're a good person and he won't be like that as often. I've seen him change emotions for a person in the blink of an eye, usually because they say something that he wants to hear. So here's a bit of advice for you: always tell him what he wants to hear. Otherwise-" Alice said before Cassandra who had just pulled the bed down interrupted.

"Otherwise you'll get a good, hard slap around the face... or on the hand... but that all depends on what you've gone'un said, of course.,"

"He'd hit someone if he didn't hear what he wanted to hear?! That's a bit cruel...." Ingrid said shocked.

"Only women though of course, with a man he'll jus' raise his voice. You'll see it for yerself soon enough, I'm sure," Cassandra said before she left.

"She thinks I'm going to be a 'say something I shouldn't' person? And does she usually just disappear after saying something like that?" Ingrid asked as she got into bed. The sheets were comfortable, the mattress was soft, and the pillows were just right; everything was just too good to be true.

"Well, there isn't a woman that's been here that he hasn't had an issue with, so Cassandra and I just expect it, though I'm sure it won't be the same with you miss. And yes, she does do that a lot, come to think of it," Alice said.

"Hmm...." Ingrid hummed as she looked straight ahead into the darkness on the other side of the room. Her thoughts were focused on what had been said in the conversation.

"Oh, do you want me to leave? Or are you just thinking?" Alice asked.

"I'm just thinking, but I suppose you may leave now. Goodnight." Ingrid replied.

"Sorry miss... I didn't mention it earlier, but I'm still fairly new here myself, I've only been a maid less than a few months, I've no idea why his lordship made me a ladies maid... I would've thought he'd choose someone with more experience," Alice said, explaining her behaviour.

"Oh. Maybe he thinks that you would do a good job and learn quickly while doing it," Ingrid said.

"Am I doing a good job, miss?" Alice asked.

"I can't see anything that you've done wrong, so yes, a good job," Ingrid smiled.

"Thank you miss it means a lot to me. Goodnight," and with that Alice left and Ingrid was left alone.

Ingrid was alone in a new house, a new room, and a new bed... a completely new life. Her thoughts were of the events of the day past and what could happen next. She soon settled though, and went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3 Wed and Bed

**Chapter Three:** Wed and Bed  
**Characters:** Lord Beckett, Ingrid Ivory, Mercer, Charles Ivory, Charlotte Ivory, Frank, a very old priest and some OC maids.  
**Word Count:** 2,580  
**Rating:** PG-13 (sex but nothing explicit)  
**Chapter Summary:** The marriage of Cutler Beckett and Ingrid Ivory and a scene with Charlotte and Charles Ivory.

**Notes: **This is the end product of staying inside the house for two days trying to avoid the awful weather we've been having here. Also, I know that it took me a while to update. Long story short: this would have been up sooner (at least two weeks ago) but because of school I completely forgot and my beta did too. Please review/comment. Thanks for reading.

Whilst Ingrid slept on the other side of London in her warm, comfortable bed, Charles Ivory paced behind the desk in his study in the freezing night air. The floor boards – long overdue for replacement – creaked when he stepped on them, and it echoed out the study door and around most of the house.

Charlotte had been lying awake in her bed trying to ignore the noise, along with the clunking of the window shutter for the past hour or so, but she couldn't take it any longer. She grabbed her cloak and threw it over her nightdress. She tiptoed down the creaking stairs trying to not contribute to the noise of her father's pacing. She entered the study with a concerned look on her face. "Father, what worries you? Your pacing is keeping me awake."

"Charlotte!" her father turned and scolded, which startled Charlotte who hadn't expected such a loud tone of voice from asking something out of concern. "This is your own fault! You should have been more alluring towards Lord Beckett!"

"I tried my hardest father, but-"

"You obviously didn't try hard enough! _You_ didn't want to be his wife and that is why you didn't try hard enough!" her father growled again.

"Father, neither of us wanted to be his wife!" Charlotte said.

"I know that. But one of you had to and I wanted _you_ to be his wife. Not Ingrid! You have ruined this family enough, but I'm going to be rid of you soon enough my girl. And I can assure you it won't be anyone like Beckett who marries you, oh no, I've found the oldest of my unmarried friends and he can have you if he pleases!"

"But father I-"

"It's too late now. You've really done it this time my girl! You ought to think yourself lucky that I haven't thrown you out onto the streets!" he shook his finger violently in the air, pointing at her.

"Father-" she pleaded once more.

"Go to bed!" He pointed towards the study door. "I don't want to see you again until the morning. You need your rest because I want you looking your best for tomorrow when we start finding you a husband!" he shouted.

"Father, please listen to me!" she begged.

Charles was infuriated with her now. He took a book from his desk and without thinking he threw it across the room. It hit Charlotte's arm. "Get out!"

She stood there for a few seconds with a wild look her face before running upstairs, her face filled with tears. She slammed her bedroom door and collapsed onto her bed.

When the noise of Charlotte slamming her door reached the study, Charles had been running his hand along his desk; exasperated, he pushed off most of the things he had on his desk. Papers, books, a jar of ink and a glass and bottle of gin all hit the floor with a large clunk. His glass and bottle of Gin were now spilt across the floor mixed with the ink, saturating the paper before soaking into the threadbare rug. Broken pieces of glass were scattered everywhere. He sunk into his chair and rested his forehead on top of his folded arms on the desk. '_Why can't I do anything right?' _he thought.

The next morning Frank would begin the cleanup of the study whilst Charles rushed Charlotte to make her presentable for any suitor who would have her – though a rich one would have been nice.

+*+*+*+*+*+

Ingrid woke up with that feeling you got when you woke from dreaming you were in a different place. When she remembered that the events of yesterday were definitely not a dream, she slipped out of bed. The room was dark, so she went and opened two of the large curtains to let some light in. The clouds were still sagging across the sky above London – what she could see of it anyway. She stood at the window for a few moments staring down at the garden outside. It must have snowed again last night because the garden was still covered in a thick blanket of white.

Coming away from the window, she noticed a small bell sitting on the bedside table next to a pile of '_oh so exciting'_ proper conduct books. She lifted up a book and read the title and author's name aloud, "_A Letter of Gentile and Moral Advice to a Young Lady_, by Wetenhall Wilkes." She put the book down on top of the pile. "That sounds... rather boring... Though, at least it should give me something to do," she sighed and looked at the small bell and picked it up. '_What am I supposed to do with this?'_ She wondered. Out of boredom and curiosity, she rang the bell. The tinging noise of the bell filled the whole room; for a small bell, it was rather loud.

She sat on her bed and waited to see if anyone had heard the bell. It then occurred to her what might happen if she woke Beckett up, providing he was even home... '_Oops!' _Her thoughts were stopped when she heard someone at the door. She turned to see who it could be. The door opened and her ladies maids - Alice and Cassandra - entered. _'So that's what the bell is for...to beckon servants around the house like dogs. This feels wrong.'_

"'bout time you were up, miss. We played a fair few round a' cards whilst we waited fo' you." Cassandra said.

"She won most of them too. We were in the middle of yet another suspicious game when you rang that there bell." Alice said as she closed the bedroom door.

Ingrid placed the bell back where it came from. "Uh- sorry, I was really tired and-"

Cassandra laughed. "You're such a funny child. Wot on earth are you say'n sorry for?"

Ingrid sat up straight. Oh of course, she would have to go and say something to make herself feel stupid. "I've never really had maids. I just don't know..."

"Never had maids? Oh, dear, you're not one of them young ladies that are sent as a debt repayment, are you? Not that it matters if you are or not. Tis' just unfortunate is all it is," Cassandra said.

"Yes... I suppose I am. But it isn't at all too unfortunate. You should have seen where I lived; it was falling apart and everything. I'm glad that I live here now," Ingrid said as she stood. "Anyway, I'd rather not talk about it. I should like to get ready."

"Fair enough, miss." Alice said. She was a little disappointed that she would not find out any more information on her mistress's background. "I put your clothes in the wardrobe last night whilst you were at dinner. Which would you like to wear today miss?"

"Oh, you went through my trunk! I hadn't a clue that my stuff had been put away. I thought I would have to do it myself." Ingrid said. "I think a blue one would be nice for today."

"Speak'n of dresses; today I'll send your measurements away with the samples that you like so we can sooner have you dressed like a proper lady." Cassandra said.

"Oh, excellent, his lordship will be pleased when they're ready." Ingrid smiled.

Alice returned from the wardrobe with a light blue dress with a silver floral pattern, and motioned for Ingrid to come to the dressing screen. Ingrid went behind the screen and Alice undressed and dressed her. Although this wasn't new to Ingrid, she felt uneasy. No one but her sister's and a maid from her childhood had seen her undressed.

Cassandra opened a large box which had been sitting on the table at the far side of the room. She pulled out some fabric samples.

Alice, who was now done with dressing Ingrid, was left with making Ingrid's face and hair to his lordships expectations. She glided the brush through Ingrid's hair many times and struggled at a few knots. When the knots were dealt with she put Ingrid's hair the way it was done yesterday; the front pulled back towards and kept together with some ribbon which Alice had found when she went through Ingrid's trunk. The rest of her hair sat nicely on her shoulders and ran down her back. Alice then gave some make up which Ingrid could apply to herself. While Ingrid powdered herself and applied some rouge and perfume, Cassandra was showing Ingrid some designs in the reflection of the mirror. She nodded at most of them, mostly because she'd always wanted to have a huge variety of beautiful dresses in her wardrobe.

When Cassandra reached the last sample she took the pile of fabrics that Ingrid disagreed on and placed them back into the box. The rest of the material she took under her arm. "Right then Alice, I'm off t'see 'bout these dresses. If you can't manage without me jus' ask someone else." And with that Cassandra left.

"Is she always pretending she is above you like that Alice?" Ingrid asked.

"Not all of the time, but most of the time, yes. It doesn't really bother me." Alice replied. She changed the subject. "Would you like some lunch now, miss?"

"Wait, you mean to say that its lunch time already?" Ingrid asked. _'So Beckett isn't around then.'_

"Close enough, yes." Alice replied. "You _must_ have been tired!"

+*+*+*+*+*+

Whilst lunch was being organised Alice explained to Ingrid about how she should do things. When lunch had been organised and served, Ingrid ate alone before taking some tea in the sitting room. She was seated in one of the large black chairs in the corner of the room beside a window. She took a sip of her tea but held back drinking anymore because it was still much too hot. She settled the tea cup on the saucer and began to read the proper conduct book that she'd found on her bedside table. She thought that it would impress Beckett if he noticed her doing her reading, and besides, it wasn't as if she had anything better to do.

A long two hours or so had passed when the clock at the other side of the room struck three, and startled Ingrid. She swore that the maid who was dusting something in the opposite corner had seen her and was trying not to laugh. She settled into her book again only to be interrupted when she heard the voices of Mr. Mercer and Lord Beckett coming from somewhere. She tried to focus on her book again when she heard another voice; this without any doubt didn't belong to Mercer or Beckett.

Beckett and Mercer entered the sitting room with an old man. Ingrid noticed what he was wearing and that he was holding a holy bible. _'A priest, does this mean Beckett wants us to wed _now_?' _Ingrid set her book down on the table spread out at the page she was reading.

"I had a feeling that Mercer would find someone to wed us today. Come here," Beckett said.

Ingrid made her way over to be at his side.

He held out his arm that she warmly accepted. "It's good to see that you've started the reading that I set for you." He sounded like a stuck up governess who was happy to see that their pupil had learned the alphabet.

"Uh, yes..." She replied nervously. She watched the old priest struggling to hold his bible. "I thought you might be pleased about that."

"Where should we do this, then?" the priest asked in a very hoarse voice. Ingrid wondered how it was even possible for him to talk at all.

"The study; Mercer shall lead the way." Beckett instructed.

Ingrid took a step forward to follow on after Mercer and the priest, but Beckett held her back. "Anxious are we?"

"Nervous, actually... Shouldn't we be going with them?"

"Yes, but I must speak with you first," he said, cutting her off. "This marriage is going to mean a lot me... If you have something that you need to tell me please do so now before I marry you and you become a burden to my life."

"I don't understand." Ingrid said. _'What kind of burden would I be?'_

"Well... things along the line of, your chastity."

"I've already told you. I am a virgin. I'm as untouched as The Virgin Mary herself."

"Very well," he said. "Though do keep in mind that there are and will be consequences if you're lying." Beckett did want to believe her but she was Charles's daughter and Charles could once again be screwing with the Beckett family.

"Shouldn't I change my dress?" Ingrid asked. Blue wasn't exactly the colour she thought she'd be wearing on her wedding day.

"No, the dress you have on is fine. This is only a small ceremony and a paper signing." Beckett replied.

"Oh... I suppose so." Ingrid said unevenly, and with that, she and Beckett made their way to the study.

+*+*+*+*+*+

"We are gathered here today to join together Cutler Beckett and Ingrid Louise Ivory in holy Matrimony." The priest read very shakily and was annoyingly slow.

When he began to read some bible verses, Ingrid's heart raced a mile a minute whilst Beckett looked rather relaxed.

The priest finally got to the vows and Ingrid became even more unrelaxed while Beckett was still very much the opposite. She almost couldn't keep her finger still when Beckett slipped on the ring and said "With this ring, I wed, with my body I worship, and with all my worldly goods, I endow to."

Ingrid then did and said the same thing, but with a pause as she tried to bring the words out of her mouth. "With t-this ring, I wed, with my body I worship, and with all my worldly goods, I-I endow to."

The priest coughed his way through the Declaration and Prayer. "I now present Lord and Lady Beckett. You may now kiss the bride." It wasn't just Beckett and Ingrid that were glad he had finished, they were both sure that the Priest himself was glad too.

Beckett placed his arms around her and kissed her gently; he wouldn't be rough with her here. He liked what he tasted and she felt unusual inside. This was Ingrid's first kiss and it certainly wouldn't be her last. Mercer handed the priest a large sack of jingling coins after the signing of some documents were done and they left the newlyweds alone.

That night after Beckett and Ingrid had had their dinner, behind the locked door of Beckett's bed chamber; Beckett explored the unseen underneath of his wife's silky-smooth nightdress. Ingrid learnt things of her husband's body; a male body. It was in that moment that Beckett was truly pleased with his choice of bride. In a way, they both learned something that night, but only one of them liked what they'd learnt. From the very moment that he'd torn into her, he discarded all interest in her and later sent her back to her own bed chamber as he would not have her sleep in the same bed that night. Sore and slightly confused, Ingrid cried herself to sleep. Beckett on the other hand lay wide awake with a pleased smirk across his face.

This was just the beginning of their marriage.


End file.
